


You don't stop being frightened of spiders just because the world blows up

by shovel_bunny



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-09
Updated: 2012-05-09
Packaged: 2017-11-05 02:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shovel_bunny/pseuds/shovel_bunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames discovers Arthur's fears and Arthur discovers trust in Eames.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You don't stop being frightened of spiders just because the world blows up

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted over at Fanfiction.net so may seem familiar. Title from a great quote by Simon Pegg. Unbeta'd so all mistakes my own.

Eames is already focusing on the task ahead, letting his mind walk through his preparations, getting himself into the mindset of the new personality he needs to become, so he isn’t really paying much attention to Arthur, just a few feet away at the other side of the tiny room.

Locked away in his own mind, he isn’t expecting it when Arthur suddenly leaps sideways and starts clawing at his jacket, dragging Eames from the boxes he’s been leaning against and pushing him towards the opposite wall.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck...’ Arthur is whispering and dear god, Eames has never ever seen him like this. There is a look of utter panic and horror on his face and his hands are shaking. Eames already has his gun out and trained on the door to the adjoining room, waiting for whatever has freaked Arthur to come through it. But as he listens intently there’s only the sound of the sports masseuse they’ve bought chatting amiably to the mark as he awaits his opportunity to feed him the spiked drink. Utterly confused now, Eames glances back at Arthur who is staring fixedly at the corner of the room, still shaking. A very distressing sound is starting to escape from him as he drags his eyes up to Eames.

‘Kill it, for fuck’s sake, kill it...please.’

Eames is stunned. He has no idea what is going on and it suddenly occurs to him that maybe Arthur is having some sort of flashback to a bad somnacin trip. He looks at Arthur again but his eyes aren’t glazed, they’re perfectly focused, just desperate. Turning to the corner of the room that seems to be the focus of Arthur’s attention, Eames scans the walls and floor and the various dusty bits and pieces scattered around. Then he sees it.

‘For Christ’s sake, Arthur; it’s just a spider,’ he hisses. He almost laughs, but at the last second he sees Arthur’s shaking hands in his mind’s eye and reins it in.

Arthur turns furious eyes up to Eames’ face and snarls softly at him.

‘Well, thank you for pointing out the fucking obvious Eames. God knows what I would’ve done without you here. Just fucking kill it please.’

‘No, Jesus Arthur, I’m not going to kill it. It lives in here; it’s not its fault that we decided to camp out in here today. Besides, look at it, its tiny, it can’t hurt you.’

He realises that this is probably the wrong thing to say when he looks away from the little spider, busily scuttling about in the corner between the floor and the walls, and back at Arthur.

The point man, always in control, always calm, equally implacable in the face of gun toting criminals and irritating colleagues alike, is white faced and sweating. The distressing noise, which sounds halfway between a whimper and a wail, is getting steadily louder and it won’t be long until its audible in the next room and their whole plan will be shot to hell.

Arthur makes a visible effort to pull himself together and hisses at Eames,

‘I know all that, God, do you think I don’t know all that? But it doesn’t fucking help okay.’  
His eyes slip back to the spider again and Eames watches as he tries to inch further away, almost like he’s trying to climb through the wall. 

‘Kill it, or do something, because if you don’t in about thirty seconds I’m gonna have to run, Eames. I’m sorry but that’s just...’

Eames looks back down at the spider and then with a heavy sigh of distaste he leans all his weight across and steps heavily down onto the arachnid, swivelling his foot a few times to make sure its dead and not just badly damaged. Stepping back he looks at the unpleasant squished stain on the floor and tries not to feel too guilty. He switches his eyes back up to Arthur, fully intent on asking if he’s happy now but the irritated words die on his tongue.

Arthur has his eyes closed but is visibly relieved and clearly still upset. 

‘Thank you, I’m very sorry you had to do that, but thank you.’

He sweeps his eyes over the remains of the spider and a shudder ripples over his whole body. When he finally looks back at Eames, his face is flushed with embarrassment and he gives a very eloquent little shrug of his shoulders. 

Eames is about to speak when they hear the knock on the door, the signal that the mark is successfully knocked out and it’s suddenly all action as they tumble out of the storeroom and into work.

 

For the next few days Arthur watches Eames like a hawk. Eames is willing to bet that Arthur thinks he’s being surreptitious about it but he can feel the point man’s eyes on him, especially when he’s talking to one of the others. Its as though Arthur is just waiting for him to break and tell everyone about ‘the spider incident’ as its become in Eames’ head. Every time they bicker he can see Arthur tense up, waiting for him to throw it in his face, he can see the moment of stillness whenever the point man has just said something particularly bitchy as he waits for what he perceives to be the inevitable rejoinder. He doesn’t physically flinch but to an expert in body language like the forger, it’s just as obvious.

To be honest that pisses Eames off. He may not be totally surprised that Arthur might think he would revel in revealing such a startling weakness, and Eames is honest enough to admit to himself that if Arthur had just been afraid of the spider he would most certainly have made the most of it. But Arthur was clearly phobic and that’s a whole different matter. He was more than a little disappointed that Arthur would think he’d casually out that, thought Arthur would know him better than that after all these years.

Arthur hadn’t just been nervous of the spider, he had totally freaked out, to the point of panic, where he’d nearly ruined his own meticulous plan in his desperation. Eames wasn’t stupid, he knew real fear when he saw it and when they’d finished the extraction job (which had gone off without a hitch, Arthur as cool as ever) he’d gone home and done some research of his own. 

He’d heard of phobias before, who hadn’t, and arachnophobia was one of the more common forms, but he hadn’t known that phobias were medically classified as anxiety disorders, or that there was more than one kind of phobia. He’d pored over numerous webpages that told him that specific phobias (rather than social phobias) involved the persistent fear of an object, which the sufferer goes to great lengths to avoid. Eames had recognised all too clearly the explanation of the fear being experienced being typically disproportional to the actual danger posed and that the fear is often recognised to be irrational by the sufferer. He’d read about how the unconditional and irrational fear can be completely debilitating and humiliating for sufferers and he’d gotten all too clear an understanding of just how appalled and humiliated Arthur, reliable, steady, always cool and calm Arthur, must have been that Eames of all people had seen his panic attack.

When he got into the workshop the following day Eames had acted no differently than any other, breezed in with cheerful hellos to all and sighed to see the huge stack of papers Arthur had already piled on his desk as preliminary research for the next job. He’d gone over to snark about it to the point man, just like he usually did and Arthur had tensed up and bitten his head off even more venomously than usual. Cobb had squinted at them and opened his mouth to deliver a lecture when Eames had backed off, hands up, and retreated to the relative safety of his desk. He’d seen Arthur glance over at him nervously before going back to his work and from that point on he’d felt himself under the point man’s increased scrutiny.

 

When Arthur gets up and goes to the bathroom Eames eases himself back in his chair and raises his arms above his head, stretching languorously. When Arthur reappears seconds later in the bathroom doorway, pausing before returning to his desk Eames doesn’t really give it a second thought, apart from a wry smile that the slender man never wastes even a second of productive work time.

It isn’t until Ariadne comes out of the bathroom later with a disgusted expression on her face that all becomes clear.

‘What’s up love? Someone left the seat up again?’

Eames is rewarded with a glower from their tiny architect and a shake of her head.

‘Well, yeah, but that I can handle. There’s a huge spider in there though and I know its ridiculous but they just give me the creeps.’ 

Yusuf laughs, ‘I had no idea you were such a big girl’s blouse, Ari.’ He is rewarded with a sweet smile and a vicious punch in the shoulder as she walks past rolling her eyes in a look of such utter disdain that Eames knows she could only have picked it up from Arthur. 

Eames is up and moving towards the bathroom before he stops to think about it so he doesn’t see Arthur’s back tense up during this exchange or the way his eyes follow the forger across the workshop.

The spider isn’t huge but it is very obvious, it’s set up its web right next to the cistern of the toilet and there’s no way anyone wanting to use the toilet could miss it there. Eames can imagine the fright Arthur must have got when he spotted it, no wonder he was back out in the workshop so quickly; he hadn’t used the bathroom at all. Casting his mind back he pictures the point man’s face when he came back out; yep, eyes just slightly wider than usual and lips a little tighter than normal. Arthur’s good, nobody had noticed anything wrong but Eames can’t help but wonder exactly how he was planning on getting through the day without using the bathroom at all. Shrugging, he grabs an old paper cup someone’s left by the sink and traps the spider in it before covering the top with a bit of tissue, because while he may not be afraid of spiders himself he’s not exactly in love with them either and he doesn’t want it crawling out onto him. He carries the cup through to the kitchen and opens the window before upending it and shaking it briskly to make sure the spider falls out. Poor thing, he wonders if it’ll make it or if it will end up as some hungry bird’s next meal instead. Checking the cup, he crushes it and tosses it in the bin then heads back to his desk.

‘You didn’t kill it did you Eames?’

Ariadne looks upset, clearly while she may not be very keen on spiders she doesn’t like the idea of killing them unnecessarily either. 

‘No, sweetheart, don’t worry I just put it out the window so it can take its chances out in the wilds with everyone else,’ he flashes her a smile as she grins back at him.

‘Thanks Eames, that’s so much more helpful than just making wisecracks like some people I could mention,’ she shoots another glare at Yusuf who holds up his hands in surrender.

‘Anything for our architect.’ Eames deliberately does not look at Arthur.

 

Two days later he’s walking past Arthur’s empty desk when from the corner of his eye he spots movement underneath it. Crouching down he sees a large spider that seems to have sensed his presence as its now still and flattened against the floor. This one is quite big and very different from the last one, with a fat body and thick legs it looks more like a garden spider than something that should be indoors. He scans around looking for a convenient container of some sort to trap the critter in when he hears the workshop door open and Arthur’s voice is calling out to Cobb across the room.

Bollocks. There’s no time for anything else so Eames quickly reaches out and cups his hands around the spider before it can scuttle away. Getting up gingerly he grimaces at the feel of the spider’s legs frantically tapping at his flesh before it seems to decide that freezing is its best survival tactic. To get to the kitchen he’s going to have to get past Arthur though, who’s walking towards him with his usual stern expression on his face. When he sees how the forger is holding his hands though, he freezes momentarily and Eames sees the sick expression that flashes across his face. Carefully, he lowers his hands and angles his body away from the point man. 

‘Afternoon Arthur, everything going okay?’ 

He keeps his voice calm, his body language relaxed and gives Arthur what he hopes is his most reassuring smile as he walks away from, and around him, towards the kitchen. Once he’s past he hears Arthur mumble something behind him but just keeps going. Fortunately the window is already open; from the smell of it Cobb has been burning toast in here again and left the window open to try to get rid of the smell before Ariadne takes him to task over it again. Eames leans out as far as he can and then opens his hands wide to drop the spider out. It scuttles off the second it lands and he shudders and closes the window before washing his hands. 

As he’s walking back to his desk he passes by Arthur again who looks up at him and gives him a tiny smile. A real smile, not a smirk, that just hints at dimples and Eames feels a low curl of warmth in his belly as he nods at the point man and goes to talk to Yusuf about an idea he’s had.

 

Its another two months and a new base, another bloody workshop, before there’s another incident and by that time Arthur has relaxed again, as much as he ever does, and is clearly comfortable resuming his role as a condescending prick, forever picking holes in Eames’ ideas and reminding Eames just why he doesn’t work with the brilliant point man all the time. After a particularly vituperative exchange this morning Eames had merrily told Arthur to go fuck himself and then sensibly taken himself off to tail his target for the rest of the day while the rest of the team just gaped at him. 

It’s quite late by the time he lets himself back into the workshop and for a brief moment he thinks he has the place to himself but the kitchenette light is still on and so is the lamp on Arthur’s desk and his laptop. His shoulders slump, because damn it, he’s tired and really not in the mood to continue this morning’s little contretemps. He dumps his jacket on his desk and leans on it heavily, seriously considering just quietly heading back out the door before the point man even realises he’s been back but then a loud clatter and a shrill yell suddenly cut off have him leaping for the kitchenette door, snatching up a gun from Arthur’s desk on the way.

Bursting through the door he expects to see Arthur fending off goons from one of the organisations they’ve pissed off in the past but instead he’s squished into the corner of the room wearing a look of horror that Eames has come to think of as his spider face. He lowers the gun and clicks the safety back on before putting it down on the counter and turning back to Arthur.

‘Its in my fucking mug, Eames! In my fucking mug! I was just going to make coffee and picked my mug up and when I looked inside there’s a fucking huge spider in it. Huge. The size of a fucking mouse,’ Arthur is pointing a shaking finger at his mug abandoned on the drainer. 

Eames steps across to peer into the mug and even he’s taken aback by the size of the spider in there. It is huge, taking up the whole base of the mug and its legs almost reach out the top when it makes futile efforts to escape.

‘Jesus,’ he mutters as he opens the kitchenette window and gingerly picks the mug up by its handle before flinging the trapped arachnid out into the late evening air. He closes the window and sets the mug in the sink before turning back to Arthur.

The point man has detached himself from the wall but still looks a mess. He’s shuddering and his fists are clenched so hard his knuckles are white. 

‘How the hell did it even manage to get in the mug in the first place? And why the hell was it in my mug?’ His breath comes in shallow fast pants and the forger can see that he’s still only just a fraction away from a full-blown panic attack.

‘Arthur... Arthur, its okay. Its gone now.’ Eames steps cautiously closer and puts a hand on his shoulder trying to ground him and draw him away from the fear. He half expects Arthur to rip his arm off for touching him while he’s so strung out but instead he steps into the forger and presses his face into Eames shoulder.

‘I hate them. God, I hate them so much and I know its stupid but I just can’t fucking help it, I hate them, Eames.’

Eames wraps his arms around the point man and wishes he could reach his totem to check it because he sure as hell hadn’t been expecting this tonight and how do you try to comfort a man who might just as easily decide to eviscerate you in his embarrassment when he comes to his senses as thank you. After a moment or two Arthur’s breathing seems to be calming down and his death grip on Eames’ shirt relaxes a little.

‘Its ok. Come on, lets go back out and sit down out there,’ he tries to sound reassuring and soothing as he leads Arthur back into the main workshop area, one arm still wrapped around the point man. When Arthur sits back at his desk, Eames props a hip against the desk and tries not to seem too concerned, as he looks Arthur over.

‘Still want that coffee? I can soon whip us one up if you like? In a different mug of course.’

Arthur leans back in his chair and looks up at Eames with a peculiar look on his face. He shudders again slightly and shakes his head.

‘No. Thanks for the offer, but no. There’s no way I could choke anything down at the moment, my throat’s still too closed up.’ His face is studiously blank as he says, ‘Fuck it, lets get the hell out of this arachnid infested hellhole and get a drink someplace else.’

Eames grins, ‘That’s more like it. Nothing in this world that a drink or two can’t help with and I know a great little place not too far from here that you’re just gonna love.’

Arthur looks seriously doubtful about this but picks up his jacket and follows Eames out into the evening anyway.

 

Three drinks later and Arthur looks a lot more relaxed, a half smile on his face as he glances around the quiet bar Eames has brought him to. Eames has a broad smile on his face too.

‘Admit it, you were expecting me to drag you to some hideous dive or a strip joint weren’t you?

Arthur laughs softly, ‘I admit I wasn’t expecting somewhere quite so nice as this but then you’ve always been full of surprises Eames. You always manage to surprise me somehow, just when I think I’ve got you pegged. Infuriating really.’ Arthur raises his glass towards the forger before knocking back the last of his drink.

‘Well, someone has to keep you on your toes, Arthur. It wouldn’t do for you to get too comfortable and cocky now would it?’ Eames finishes his own beer and stands up to go and get more drinks from the bar given that Arthur shows no sign of being ready to leave yet. He wonders if the point man is planning to get totally trashed tonight and if he’s going to get the blame for Arthur’s headache in the morning if they do. Probably, but it’ll be worth it to see him loosen up tonight. 

They’ve known each other for years and given how often they’ve seen inside each other’s subconscious minds they should know each other inside out, but somehow when you work in this crazy industry you become adept at hiding your true self from everyone else. You have to if you want to maintain any kind of privacy and sanity at all. Arthur’s the best at what he does and so is Eames, so they’re also the best at hiding themselves too.

When he gets back with Arthur’s Tanqueray and tonic and another beer for himself, Arthur looks magnificently languid, a lazy sprawl across the leather seat that somehow manages to look elegant at the same time. That tiny smile is back on his face, the one with the hint of dimples that makes Eames feel warm inside.

‘Thanks for not being an asshole about the whole spider thing,’ he says and Eames is surprised because he’d thought they were just going to ignore the whole thing again. 

‘I’ve always been afraid of the little horrors,’ there’s a faintly disgusted look on his face as he continues, ‘always and there doesn’t seem to have been a trigger incident, it’s just always been there.’

‘Who else knows?’ Eames assumes that Cobb at least must know given how long Arthur’s been working with him, so he’s surprised by the answer.

‘No one but you and my folks and trust me I’m very happy for it to stay that way, so thank you for keeping it under your hat.’ Arthur gives him a full smile this time and even in the slightly dim light of the bar Eames can see the low flush on Arthur’s neck and cheeks.

Eames lets his own smile drop so that Arthur will understand that he’s serious when he says, ‘No problem, darling. It was obvious that you didn’t want the others to know and despite what everyone may think I’m actually very good at keeping secrets and not being a complete arse.’ He gives Arthur a considering look before continuing, ‘Why not just tell the others though? Cobb at least, so there’s someone else to help out if need be.’

Arthur’s brow furrows as he contemplates the drink he swirls gently in one hand, ‘I don’t tell anyone because not everyone has your level of self-control when it comes to my potentially embarrassing idiosyncrasies.’ A wry twist of his mouth, ‘but its not just embarrassing. Can you imagine what would happen if the news got out amongst the community that I’m shit scared of spiders? Think about it, if everyone knew that all they had to do was dream up a spider or two to have me incapacitated then they’d just add that in to the training manual for new dreamers. Our particular community isn’t so big that it wouldn’t be worth putting a few spiders in every dream just in case I’m involved.’

For a moment Eames thinks about making a wisecrack about the size Arthur’s head has swelled to recently, but actually he has a point. Any self-respecting point man or extractor would pick up on such an obvious weakness in an individual and exploit it ruthlessly, whether in an extraction or in militarising a client. He leans back and contemplates the horror he could come up with in a dream for Arthur now that he knows about this; rooms with no doors or windows, the floor covered in a mass of writhing spiders. Or huge spiders, the real stuff of nightmares, big enough to fill the room…

Arthur gives him a knowing smile as he says, ‘At first I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t know them well enough to trust them and then once I did get to know them…’ he shudders and Eames thinks about Dom and Mal and just how risky Dom’s subconscious had turned out to be without such an easy target. Yusuf and Ariadne don’t bear thinking about; with their limited dreamscape experience there’s no way they could be trusted to avoid bringing arachnids in subconsciously. Don’t think about elephants indeed.

‘So how do you cope with the little devils out here then?’ Eames is curious, as far as he knows Arthur lives alone. He suddenly has a vivid image of Arthur standing on a chair, shouting for help with no one to hear him, as spiders march back and forth across the floor, and doesn’t bother to suppress his frown.

‘Know thine enemy. Its pretty easy to keep their numbers down in a confined space actually,’ Arthur grimaces and takes another sip of his drink, ‘all you have to do is deprive them of a food supply and they won’t hang around. Keep the place tidy, clean and dust free and you’ve got no worries. No food, no spiders.’ 

Many things become clear just then in Eames’ mind; neat and tidy Arthur, who had probably been keeping his surroundings as sterile as possible since he was a frightened child, those habits reinforced by a stint in the military and now a life lived in anonymous interchangeable hotel rooms, cleaned every day by efficient staff. 

‘Well, like I said before, your secret’s safe with me. Out here,’ he makes an expansive gesture with one hand, suggesting the world in general, ‘and in here,’ he taps his head. Eames has no problems with thoughts of elephants or spiders; Arthur doesn’t need to worry about him. ‘Shall we talk about something more interesting?’ Arthur gives Eames an appraising look over his glass but the smile is back and he lets the forger move the conversation on. 

 

In the morning Eames makes the effort to get to work even earlier than usual and is just able to get the kettle on before Arthur and Yusuf get in. 

‘Anyone else for coffee?’ he yells without bothering to leave the kitchenette. He gets the expected responses, negative from the chemist who hates Eames’ coffee and positive from Arthur who’ll take just about anything caffeinated this early in the morning. 

He doesn’t say anything as he sets Arthur’s coffee down on the corner of his desk, just puts it down and heads for his own chair. He hears the point man’s muted murmur of surprise and looks up in time to catch the pleased smile on his face. Arthur doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t seem too upset to see his coffee in Eames’ old mug or that Eames is gulping down his own wickedly strong tea from what had been Arthur’s mug (scrubbed thoroughly this morning, inside and out) until last night.

 

Life goes on and nothing much changes, or at least not on the surface anyway. Jobs come and go, most often Eames works with Cobb and Arthur but sometimes with other crews. He doesn’t really need the money anymore but Eames has discovered that if left to his own devices for too long he can get himself into all sorts of trouble out of sheer boredom, so he takes interesting jobs, anything that might prove a challenge.

The forger no longer thinks twice about sweeping his eyes across rooms to check for the giveaway scurrying motion of spiders wherever he is, whether Arthur is present or not. It’s just become another thing to check for, like bugs, cameras, anything suspicious. Its second nature now, as is the removal of any unfortunate arachnids with minimal fuss, and even if anyone were to comment he could fob them off with Ariadne’s dislike anyway. So yeah, nothing’s changed, Arthur and he still chat amiably some days and clash loudly on others when they can’t seem to agree on anything.

 

Its Ariadne who notices it first on a training run, she’s annoyingly observant, especially in the dreamscapes she’s created.

‘Hey Eames, what are you doing over there? You’re supposed to be on your way to meet the mark aren’t you?’

Eames is confused; he’s currently wearing the face and rather portly body of a fifty three year old sales executive, a casual acquaintance of the mark, and he is indeed on his way to the rendezvous point. So he’s puzzled by Ari’s shout until he looks round and spots... himself frowning at Ariadne, who’s standing next to an equally puzzled looking Arthur.

‘I’m over here,’ he yells, waving at them and then dropping the forge so that they can see it is him. He jogs over to them and the three of them stare at the other Eames who is peering suspiciously back at them from where he leans nonchalantly against the corner of a building. He’s wearing Eames’ favourite pale blue and purple striped shirt and one of his older jackets, flipping a coin absently across the knuckles of his right hand, the left tucked into his trouser pocket. He doesn’t say anything this other Eames, just watches them carefully but he definitely exudes an air of thinly veiled threat.

Ariadne turns to Arthur seeming as bewildered as Eames feels, her hand reaches up to grasp Arthur’s forearm and as she does so the doppelganger frowns and shifts its weight; the coin has disappeared from its right hand which pushes under its jacket, towards the back of its trousers, where the real Eames has been known to tuck a gun on occasion. 

‘What’s going on, Arthur?’ Ariadne sounds as confused as she looks. This is Arthur’s dream and that’s Arthur’s projection of Eames that’s looking at her so menacingly now. 

‘Um,’ the point man is uncharacteristically lost for words. His cheeks are flushed and he looks utterly appalled by the projection’s appearance. ‘I have no idea,’ he says quietly but he won’t meet the real forger’s eyes. Eames notices absently that shocked and ruffled, much like everything else, is not a bad look on Arthur. 

‘Maybe I should just go ask him what he’s doing?’ the architect suggests but Eames sees the projection straightening from the corner of his eye, the hand coming out from under the jacket clasped around the butt of a gun. He grabs Ariadne before she can move more than a couple of steps.

‘You know what, I think it’s probably better just to leave him be for now and see what happens as we go about our business.’ He turns and gives his doppelganger a wink but it ignores him, focus narrowed onto point man and architect, though its stance is less threatening now that Ariadne has let go of Arthur and stopped moving.

‘Yeah, yeah, okay, let’s just carry on,’ Arthur does look at Eames this time but Eames can’t make head nor tail of whatever it is that’s in his eyes. 

So he does what he does best, slips back into someone else’s body, gives the other two a thumbs up and turns to start back to the rendezvous point. He can hear them start to chat about the layout behind him, hear Arthur suggesting changes and Ariadne agreeing and expanding on them. Ahead of him the buildings start to shift, nothing major, just tweaks to the exteriors. On the other hand, maybe it was something major after all because suddenly the projections around him start getting antsy. He swivels on his heel back towards the others just in time to see a group of projections turn on them. Arthur must be more ruffled than he was letting on given how quickly this is turning nasty. He wonders briefly whether its worth trying to salvage anything from this session as Arthur fells a couple of projections who are trying to grab at Ariadne’s slim body. Before he has time to do anything though, his doppelganger is doing it all for him, taking out projections before they can lay a hand on the point man. 

Unfortunately, Eames realises as he sees Ariadne crumple in a heap, felled by a bullet from his lookalike, its only interested in protecting Arthur. The point man is momentarily stunned until another projection is felled by a bullet way too close for comfort and he starts moving again, his actions economical and lethal in equal parts. As the forger approaches the knot of fighting figures the other Eames turns and for a second a chill sweeps over him as he anticipates death from a figure wearing his own face. But the doppelganger chooses to ignore him and turns its attention back to the rest of the marauding projections closing in about Arthur. More and more of them are arriving from every part of the dreamscape and Eames curses loudly before shouting across to the point man.

‘Fuck this, Arthur. I don’t want to be torn to shreds today. Let’s go.’ Arthur spares him a glance and a nod before raising a gun to his temple. Eames mirrors the action and pulls the trigger, still utterly bemused by this whole crazy situation.

When he jolts awake back in his chair in the empty open plan office they’ve taken over for this job, he looks first for Arthur, who looks as discomfited up here as he had when they were under. 

‘Well, that was certainly different but I’m not sure I’d care to repeat it in a hurry,’ Ariadne looks pale and shaken as she leans against a desk. Evidently she hasn’t gotten used to dying yet and Eames hopes it’ll be a while before she does, although if she’s going to keep working in dreamshare its inevitable. He slides the cannula from his arm before getting up and settling next to the slight architect. He’s pleased that she doesn’t flinch away from him when he slides an arm around her shoulder, leaning into him as he rubs his hand up and down her arm.

‘I kind of assumed I wouldn’t have to worry about death by crazed projections once Dom had dealt with his demons.’ 

Arthur flinches at the comparison but doesn’t hesitate to respond. ‘Its not quite the same thing,’ he starts but she cuts him off. 

‘It felt pretty much the same to me Arthur. Dead is dead, whether it’s a knife or a bullet, Mal or Eames. What’s going on?’

Arthur meets her eyes and shrugs, ‘I think he’s there to protect me.’ He doesn’t look at Eames, who’s grateful that the point man therefore doesn’t see him gaping at him. ‘I’ve never seen him out in the open before but I have noticed something odd in the background of my dreams lately. No previous interaction though.’

‘From what we’ve seen that’s a pretty reasonable conclusion, I suppose,’ Eames is thoughtful and chooses to ignore Ariadne’s sharp intake of breath and equally sharp elbow in his ribs. He looks down at her ruefully, ‘If you think about it, the projection didn’t actually react until Arthur was attacked by the other projections and he was definitely taking out anything that presented a threat to him.’

‘I wasn’t threatening him,’ she sounds exasperated, ‘so why did it feel the need to shoot me in the head?’

‘It didn’t react well, when you touched Arthur earlier in the dream, so it could just be over protective. Or it could be that it saw you as a distraction to Arthur and therefore a threat to his survival in the dream,’ he shrugs and then turns back to Arthur, ‘as to why it looks like me? I’m afraid only Arthur can answer that one.’

‘I have no idea.’ 

Eames is pretty sure Arthur’s lying about that one but he’s prepared to let it go for now. There are more immediate concerns after all.

‘We need to get back in there and work out if this is going to be a problem. Handsome bastard though he is, we need to know if he’s going to start causing trouble during the job,’ he quirks an eyebrow at Arthur.

‘Sure, I’ll set us up again and we can go for another run through,’ he pauses. ‘I don’t think he’ll be a problem though,’ he ignore Ariadne’s snort of disbelief, ‘he didn’t actually intervene until things started to go wrong and that was mainly caused by my disquiet at seeing him there. As long as I know what to expect and none of you are actively threatening me I think it’ll be ok and he’ll just stay in the background.’

‘Well, that’s just great,’ for such a youthful innocent looking creature Ariadne can be hellishly vitriolic. ‘You guys have fun, knock yourselves out with that, I’ll just wait up here until the three of you have everything sorted out down there.’

Arthur scowls but Eames just gives their architect a squeeze and says, ‘Righto, love. We’ll deal with Arthur’s deep-rooted psychological issues and be back in time for tea. We can take Cobb or Yusuf in with us when they get back and see if we have it sorted.’ He drops a kiss on the top of her head before shifting back to his chair and taking the line from Arthur.

 

When Cobb gets back, he’s muttering under his breath and his hair has that particularly unkempt straggly look which suggests his children have been severely trying his patience. He attempts to push an especially unruly strand out of his eyes as he pauses in the doorway and eyes the other group of people who regularly make him want to pull it out by the roots.

‘What is it this time?’ he sighs, as he considers all the problems that could have occurred since he last saw them yesterday.

‘Not necessarily a problem, just an unexpected turn of events is all.’ Eames rests a hand on the back of Arthur’s chair as he speaks and pastes the blandest expression he has onto his face. Cobb looks unimpressed and automatically looks to his point man for an explanation. 

Arthur just shrugs, as Ariadne chips in, ‘Turns out Arthur has trust issues,’ before she and Yusuf collapse in gales of laughter. Arthur rolls his eyes at them, as Eames scowls, brow furrowing. His hand slips from the chair to Arthur’s shoulder as he says quietly, ‘It’s probably easier to just show him rather than try to explain, if you’re up for going back in.’

‘Of course,’ Arthur is all casual nonchalance as he gestures towards the PASIV and this time everyone follows them over to where it’s set up. Cobb still looks confused but is clearly biding his time as he settles into a chair and rolls up his sleeve. His eyes hold a multitude of questions as he looks up at Arthur, but the point man’s tired face gives little away as he hands him the line and then turns back to take his own chair. ‘Okay, lets do this again,’ he mutters as he depresses the button and puts them all under.

The dreamscape is almost the same as before, though this time the changes that Arthur and Ariadne had previously been trying to effect are in place. Rather than trying to run through the scenario the group are wandering slightly aimlessly and Cobb still has that slightly bemused look on his face, though he’s also starting to look a bit pissy. He never did have much in the way of patience. 

‘Look, there’s one,’ Ariadne grins and points and the others turn to look. Eames watches as Cobb’s jaw drops and he spins on his heel to look back at the forger, who’s standing just behind and to the side of Arthur, with what he suspects is a rather peculiar look on his face.

‘Is that?’ Cobb splutters.

‘Yep,’ Yusuf responds delightedly and Eames winces, they’re all having way too much fun with this but Arthur just shrugs it off like he’s been doing all day since that first incident.

The team keep moving through the dreamscape, and Arthur, ever efficient, keeps making notes, probably spotting errors they can fix or improvements they can make. Cobb spots the next double and the one after that. Yusuf picks out the next one from a crowd and Eames doesn’t bother to point out that they’ve missed several because he doesn’t see any point in adding any more fuel to the flames.

They stop at a coffee shop and Eames almost relaxes until he sees a doppelganger giving him a wink and thumbs up from across the street. He chokes on his unpleasant weak American tea and Yusuf has to pound him on the back while his eyes stream and Ariadne hands him a napkin. He risks a sidelong look at Arthur who’s merely watching him in amusement and Eames thinks that if the point man can handle this so easily, then to hell with it, so can he. Most of his doubles seem content to ignore them as ordinary projections would, with only one or two occasionally giving the rest of the team suspicious looks. But they seem to be getting more and more relaxed around the forger, though they haven’t tried to interact properly yet.

‘What’s going on, Arthur?’ Cobb seems uncertain what to expect from his point man and perhaps given his past experiences he’s right to be a bit jittery.

‘My subconcious is just being a little bit less subtle than usual in terms of militarisation that’s all,’ Arthur is delightfully calm and relaxed, sipping at his espresso, a hint of amusement showing around his mouth.

‘But...Eames...’ is all Cobb manages, looking scandalised by the whole idea.

‘Yep, Eames. I trust Eames to have my back and my subconcious has picked up on that and put him in here to keep an eye on me. My own personal Mr Charles if you like.’

This time its Cobb’s turn to choke and Ariadne rolls her eyes as she passes him a napkin. A lengthy argument then ensues in which Cobb tries to claim that if Arthur’s subconcious puts anyone in here to protect him it should surely be him and the rest of them try not to laugh at their extractor too much. They’re still sitting, laughing and debating when the timer runs down and they’re dropped back into reality.

When he wakes up Cobb seems more thoughtful and less aghast, which Eames considers an improvement, though he’s not keen on the enhance scrutiny he’s now under from the extractor. The other two seem to have gotten much of the hilarity out of their systems too and he thinks that things might go back to normal sooner rather than later now that they’ve concluded the job isn’t in any danger from Arthur’s new minders. He stretches his arms out and winces as he hears his back creaking from too much time spent in uncomfortable chairs today.

‘Righto folks, I’m calling it a day,’ he calls as he gathers his jacket and twirls his tweed cap, which he loves but Arthur mocks mercilessly, on the end of a finger. 

‘Me too, Eames, wait up,’ calls Ariadne as she starts flinging bits and pieces into her satchel. 

And if anybody notices that his hand trails lightly across Arthur’s shoulders as he passes on the way to the door then nobody mentions it. And if anybody notices that Arthur’s wearing a tiny real smile that just quirks his mouth up at the corners and shows his dimples, then nobody comments on that either. And if Eames smiles a little the next time he has to remove a spider form one of their workspaces, well then that’s nobody’s business but his own.

**Fin**


End file.
